The Multiplication of Plot Bunnies
by forensicsfan
Summary: A response to a challenge to write a good piece of bad fan fiction.


Disclaimer: I don't own them, I didn't create them, I don't profit from them, but as always, a cup of coffee with George would be nice.  
  
This is in response to a challenge between Brianna and I to write a good piece of bad fanfiction, so with that warning proceed at your own risk.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
The night was hot. Hot even for Vegas at this time of year. The time of year when flocks of tourists headed south for the winter, bringing with them all sorts of bad things. Things that people think they can only get away with in Sin City.  
  
The victim was typical. A twenty-something woman looking for a good time that got out of hand. She'd hit the jackpot and picked the wrong person to celebrate with, so her one night stand ended up taking the money and running, leaving her with knife in her heart.  
  
"Brings a whole new meaning to Heartbreak Hotel." Quipped Grissom.  
  
"Yeah, I'm surprised he didn't twist it while he was at it." Sara groused, glancing at her supervisor with veiled lust.  
  
An oblivious Grissom turned toward his subordinate and gestured toward the door. "I'm going to see what's taking Catherine so long to get here."  
  
Sara's shapely eyebrows, which framed her chocolately brown eyes perfectly, making every other man in the lab save Grissom weak in the knees with lust for her, arched upward. "I thought you and I were working this case."  
  
"She's got more seniority. The sheriff likes to have her on such high profile cases, and besides, she needs another opportunity to redeem herself after the lab explosion and misusing the DNA lab to check her own paternity. Oh, and I'm sure that Greg needs a little more field training." Grissom continued, the line of thinking perfectly logical to his Catherine- fogged mind.  
  
"Uh, but I'm the one you hand picked to join the team." Sara retorted.  
  
"Are you still telling yourself that, Sara." Nick interjected as he arrived at the scene.  
  
Grissom turned toward the young Texan. "Nicky, good, you can help Sara process the scene until Catherine arrives to take over the case."  
  
"Not again." Nick muttered under his breath and glanced over at Sara.  
  
She arched the aforementioned eyebrows in a manner which caused lust to form in Nick's loins. As Sara observed her young counterpart, it occurred to her that he was quite ripped. His muscles moved under his shirt in such a way that she considered he must have been the model for the anatomy chart in her high school science class. In a word he was a specimen of perfection, godlike, a tribute to physical fitness, the kind of man that should grace the cover of a romance novel. Why she hadn't noticed it before made her think that perhaps she was blind, unable to see through the Grissom-clouded haze her life had been consumed with for the last three years.  
  
"You two need some help here?" Warrick sauntered in, taking in the scene and wondering just how long he would get to remain at the scene before he was relegated back to the lab so that Greg could have more screen time.  
  
"Naw, we're good." Nick answered, not wanting to give up a moment of his own screen time since it had been significantly shrinking all season.  
  
Sara glanced up and arched the lust inducing eyebrows at Warrick, knowing that his knees would weaken at the mere sight of them. "Hey, Rick." She noticed for the first time how much like Lenny Kravitz he looked and she realized that he could give Nick a run for his money (had Nick cared about money the way Warrick did with his gambling addiction that he'd been able to miraculously overcome), in the perfect body department.  
  
Warrick suddenly felt unsteady on his feet as his knees weakened, turning spaghetti-like if you will. He felt the room spin and then the bluebird that was on his shoulder started to fly around his head as he fainted dead away hitting the floor in such a way as to make you ponder the age old question, if a tree falls in the forest and no one is there, does it really make a sound? Well, from the sounds of his groaning, Warrick seemed to have gotten a nasty bump on his head.  
  
Within moments, Nick and Sara had summoned the paramedics to help him. When they arrived, Hank, the cheating two timing bastard who used Sara, led the way. He glanced over at Sara as he treated Warrick and tried to stammer an apology for treating her that way, hoping against hope that she might arch her lust inducing eyebrows his way, but she refused to meet his gaze and disappointment set in. Warrick was whisked away to subplot basement "C" where his career would hopefully be able to recover sometime next season.  
  
Sara made furtive glances at Nick, wondering about his studlike capabilities with his ladies man reputation that had become legendary at the lab, due in no small part to Greg Sanders, when Greg walked in, his spiked hair and charming smile apparent against the backdrop of his wild Hawaiian shirt and baggy jeans.  
  
"I'm here to find the key piece of evidence to crack the case wide open." He grinned like the proverbial Cheshire cat that ate the canary, but in this case it had eaten the blue bird from Warrick's shoulder and nobody was singing 'Zipadeedoodah'.  
  
Sara let out a sigh, knowing that even though her arched eyebrows would normally elicit Greg to grovel at her, with the new Greg-Becomes-a-CSI plotline, he was now impervious, preferring instead to flirt with Catherine to get ahead.  
  
As if on cue, the senior CSI arrived to take over the scene. "Ok, sorry I'm late, Lindsey had this thing with some stuff and I had to do a thing. Nick and Sara, you can leave. Take all of your carefully collected evidence back to the lab and process it so that I can once again get the credit. Greg, you'll be helping me here at the scene." She smiled as if she was pedaling toothpaste on TV as Nick and Sara gathered the collected evidence and exited the scene. Catherine glanced at Greg and winked. "I guess those lessons from Lady Heather are paying off."  
  
Grissom chose that moment to return from wherever it was that he'd been. Most likely having been distracted by an insect, or waiting for his cue to reenter the scene. "Oh, good, you're here. Look, I know it's a high profile case, but we need to talk about your review."  
  
Catherine arched her eyebrow. Unfortunately, it didn't have the same effect on the men that Sara's did, but with one swivel of her hips and a little exposed cleavage, she could usually get what she wanted. "We're in the middle of a big case, Gil."  
  
He grinned. "Well, I don't want to get written up for not helping you achieve your goals. I seem to recall one that you were about seven months behind on. The room next door is empty, we can talk about that one, while Greg finishes processing the scene."  
  
Catherine's eyes widened in surprise. "Gil." She looked at him wondering if she was hearing him correctly.  
  
Greg interjected. "Actually, Grissom, I helped her check that one off her list last week. Nothing like a little desperation to get a woman like Catherine to look my way." He grinned.  
  
Catherine smirked at Grissom. "If I'd known you wanted to help me out, I wouldn't have gone to Greg."  
  
Grissom wasn't sure how to respond. "Well, at least you've met that goal then."  
  
Meanwhile back at the lab. The halls were eerily quiet and Nick and Sara were considering trying to rescue Warrick from subplot basement "C", and further solidify their identity as the Wonder Twins, or to just abandon the lab altogether for the rest of the shift since no one would even know they were gone and neither of them knew the outcome of the promotion yet since it seemed Grissom, Catherine, and Greg were getting all the attention.  
  
Sara decided to just hit the bottle she had stowed in her locker while the writers debated whether or not she had a drinking problem, arching her eyebrows sporadically at Nick in hopes of inducing his lust.  
  
Nick decided to change his shirt in the locker room while Sara was drinking since he thought he might get more screen time if he took his shirt off.  
  
"You look fine, Nick." Sara's voice was slightly slurred.  
  
"You know you can't cover that up with cough drops forever." Nick turned to face her, his arms crossed over his bare chest.  
  
Sara reached over and pulled his arms away from his chest. "You really shouldn't cover up something so perfect."  
  
"You're drunk, Sara." He tried to put on his best stern expression, but it got lost somewhere between her hand touching his arm and her lips touching his.  
  
It seemed that their tongues were doing as much exploratory surgery on their mouths as their hands were to their bodies. The lockers groaned under the pressure of Nick pushing Sara against them as he tried to kiss her senseless, which really was impossible since, her senses were rather dulled from the alcohol she'd ingested to try and numb Grissom's rejection and her career which seemed to be heading into the toilet since spoiler threads abounded that Nick and not her would receive the promotion.  
  
As Sara tried to concentrate on Nick's godlike body and Nick tried to concentrate on the suppleness of hers, wondering just how flexible she was, Grissom decided to walk in. Nick and Sara jumped apart, their chests were both heaving as they tried to catch their breaths.  
  
Grissom just stood there in somewhat of a shell shocked state, wondering just when it had become too late to make Sara wait forever.  
  
~*~ The End ~*~  
  
Author's Note: Just remember before you flame that this is a parody and an attempt to write a good piece of bad fanfiction. That said, all comments are welcome. 


End file.
